Good day sunshine

I’ve always loved the term daybreak. It’s just so appropriate. To watch the sunrise is to watch the day break and spill across the sky, slowly at first in grays and dull yellows but then in surges of pinks and oranges and reds. Nothing trumps nature for beauty.

I have quite taken to this time of the morning of late. I used to hate prying myself out of bed before nine. I have discovered, though, that there is a nice rush in knowing that the entire day, every moment of light, is completely mine to maximize or squander as I like. It also makes the inability to sleep more bearable.

As I sit by my window this morning and watch today open, I’m thinking of Anne Sexton’s poem which is lovely (minus the god bits) and says all about this time of day that I am otherwise too ineloquent to say on my own.

The Fury of Sunrises
Written by Anne Sexton

as black as your eyelid,
poketricks of stars,
the yellow mouth,
the smell of a stranger,
dawn coming up,
dark blue,
no stars,
the smell of a love,
warmer now
as authenic as soap,
wave after wave
of lightness
and the birds in their chains
going mad with throat noises,
the birds in their tracks
yelling into their cheeks like clowns,
lighter, lighter,
the stars gone,
the trees appearing in their green hoods,
the house appearing across the way,
the road and its sad macadam,
the rock walls losing their cotton,
lighter, lighter,
letting the dog out and seeing
fog lift by her legs,
a gauze dance,
lighter, lighter,
yellow, blue at the tops of trees,
more God, more God everywhere,
lighter, lighter,
more world everywhere,
sheets bent back for people,
the strange heads of love
and breakfast,
that sacrament,
lighter, yellower,
like the yolk of eggs,
the flies gathering at the windowpane,
the dog inside whining for good
and the day commencing,
not to die, not to die,
as in the last day breaking,
a final day digesting itself,
lighter, lighter,
the endless colors,
the same old trees stepping toward me,
the rock unpacking its crevices,
breakfast like a dream
and the whole day to live through,
steadfast, deep, interior.
After the death,
after the black of black,
the lightness,-
not to die, not to die-
that God begot.

Good morning, everyone. Enjoy your days.



Filed under Just Me, Miscellany

2 responses to “Good day sunshine

  1. I agree with you, Dawn is the best time of day. The only problem is the getting up for it. Apparently we are genetically disposed to be either morning or afternoon people and I am definitely an afternoon person. My father had a plaque on the wall which said “Many are called, but few get up”. I’m not one of the few, generally speaking. I guess I’ll never be a Landscape photographer…

  2. I would agree, too. It is a beautiful time of day – and that poem is wonderful. Unfortunately, like Fionnbharr, I’m not very good at it either! My husband, who *is* a landscape photographer, will quite happily get up at 2.30 in the morning at the height of summer, to drive 50 miles to catch the sunrise on the Northumberland coast. But I just can’t do it. Definitely a night-owl! Sophie.

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